**Chapter 427**
**Orbital Battle of Ryloth – Part 5**
**Dagon POV**
The battle had descended into pure chaos.
I pushed the Skelter harder, weaving through a storm of turbolaser fire and droid fighters as I drove straight toward the heart of the CIS formation. The *Starhawk* loomed like a massive hatchet-shaped predator at the center of the enemy fleet, its escorts opening and closing gaps like the jaws of a beast. Anakin's premature arrival had thrown everything off balance. One of his Venators was already burning, shields flickering, hull breached in multiple sections.
Through the battle meld I maintained with my captains, I felt the tension ripple across the fleet. *Fulminatrix — move upward and shield that Venator. Now.*
The Resurgent-class Star Destroyer responded instantly, its massive frame sliding into position with surprising grace for its size. Its reinforced shields absorbed a devastating broadside that would have finished the Republic ship. Still, the cost was mounting.
*Damn it, Skywalker.*
I felt the sharp sting of loss through the Force — three Lancer-class frigates gone in rapid succession. Their shields had collapsed under concentrated fire from the *Starhawk's* octuple turbolasers and supporting Recusants. Good crews. Brave crews. Lost because one impulsive Jedi couldn't wait for the signal.
The Skelter shuddered as I took a glancing hit, but the Force bubble held. I guided the fighter into the *Starhawk's* blind spot — a narrow sensor shadow created by the battleship's own massive forward superstructure and hatchet-prow.
*Enough.*
I brought the Skelter to a relative hover, locked the controls, and sealed my helmet. The void awaited. Doing breathing techniques in space should have been impossible. The Hinokami Kagura — the Dance of the Fire God — was passed down through the Kamado family on Earth, a ritual of twelve segments offered to the Fire God from sunset to sunrise. It was the root of Sun Breathing, the original and most powerful style from which all others descended. Monks had taught me its forms, and I had adapted them through the Force.
All other Breathing Styles were modifications for those who couldn't handle the original Sun Breathing. Here, in the cold vacuum, I would make the impossible real.
I ejected from the cockpit, propelling myself with a Force push toward the *Starhawk's* hull. My beskar armor, reforged with Sith techniques, gleamed darkly as I activated both my lightsaber and the ancient beskar sword sheathed at my side. Red lightning began to dance across my armor.
I began the form.
Even in zero gravity, the movements flowed. My body spun and twisted in a perfect circular motion — Sun Breathing: Clear Blue Sky. A full 360° slash, visualizing solar flames wreathing my blades. The Force amplified every motion, turning vacuum into an extension of my will. Red lightning and dark side energy fused with the technique, supercharging the dual blades.
The concentrated slash struck the *Starhawk's* primary magnite crystal tractor beam array.
For a moment, nothing seemed to happen.
Then the array *split*.
A brilliant explosion ripped outward as the magnite crystals destabilized. The feedback surge tore through the battleship's systems. Secondary detonations bloomed along the hull as overloaded power conduits erupted. The massive tractor beam that had been reeling in Anakin's Venator suddenly collapsed, freeing the damaged Republic ship.
Alarms screamed across the *Starhawk's* bridge — I could sense the panic even from outside. The CIS formation faltered as the protective anchor lost its greatest weapon.
I landed on the hull, magnetic boots engaging, and drove both blades deep into the armor plating, carving a molten wound. "You wanted a close-range fight?" I whispered into the void. "Then let's dance."
**Scene 2**
**Anakin Skywalker POV**
**Resolute – Bridge**
The *Resolute* shuddered violently as the tractor beam released it. Alarms blared across the bridge.
"Shields at thirty percent!" a clone officer shouted. "Multiple hull breaches on decks seven through twelve!"
Anakin gripped the railing, breath coming hard. He had seen the *Fulminatrix* slide into position at the last second, taking the brunt of the killing blow meant for his ship. Without Dagon's intervention through the battle meld, they would have been destroyed.
"Damage report on the fleet," Anakin ordered.
"Two Venators heavily damaged. One CR90 corvette destroyed. We're losing fighter squadrons fast," his tactical officer replied.
Obi-Wan's hologram flickered to life beside him, expression tight with disapproval. "Anakin, you jumped in too early. Dagon had a plan."
"I know," Anakin admitted through gritted teeth. "But Ryloth—"
A massive explosion lit up the viewport. The *Starhawk* — that monstrous CIS battleship — was venting atmosphere and debris from its forward section. A lone figure in dark beskar armor stood on its hull, twin blades glowing as it carved into the ship like an avenging demon.
"Dagon…" Anakin whispered.
**Scene 3**
**Dagon POV**
Explosions continued to ripple across the *Starhawk's* superstructure. The Sun Breathing technique, fused with Force lightning and my enhanced dark side power, had done far more damage than a conventional strike could have. The magnite tractor beam array was completely severed, its crystal matrix shattered and burning.
I sprinted across the hull, using the Force to propel myself in long, controlled leaps. Vulture droids tried to intercept me, but I cut them down mid-flight with sweeping slashes — more Sun Breathing forms adapted to the vacuum. Each strike released bursts of solar-flame-like energy visible only through the Force.
Below me, the battle raged.
My Resurgents and Valiants had resumed long-range bombardment now that the immediate friendly fire risk had decreased. The *Valiant* and *Allegiance* poured fire into the gaps created by the *Starhawk's* damaged systems. Another Recusant destroyer broke apart under concentrated XX-10 fire.
I reached a primary weapons blister and plunged both blades into it, twisting viciously. A chain reaction tore through the octuple turbolaser battery. I rode the explosion upward, using the blast wave to launch myself toward the next target.
Through the battle meld, I sent a clear message to all captains, including Skywalker's forces:
*Focus fire on the escorts. The Starhawk is mine.*
The orbital battle had become a brutal brawl. Eighty-plus CIS warships against my superior fleet, now complicated by Anakin's early intervention. Losses on both sides were climbing, but the *Starhawk* — their strongest asset — was bleeding.
I would carve out its heart.